Page 67 of Dark Night of the Soul

“They went in through what was already there,” he said. “The nervous system. Existing pathways the body already uses. Tiny instruments. Light and pressure. Guided along the spine and up into the brainstem.”

My hands curled into fists before I realized it.

“No scars,” he continued. “No damage you’d recognize at a glance. Just… alteration. They mapped her responses first, then rewrote the reflex. Taught her body what to do before her mind can intervene.”

A slow, vicious heat spread through my chest. Not rage. Something older.

“They tested the baseline,” Cashiel added. “Measured what she’d do under threat, proved she could hurt anyone. But the real work—” His gaze hardened. “They calibrated her triggers to you. Your movements. Your presence. The way you breathe when you’re close to her.”

My stomach turned to lead. They’d altered her. And they’d used me to do it.

“They made her the most dangerous to the one person she’d never willingly harm,” he finished.

Because no matter what choice we made, the Brotherhood won. I didn’t need to ask why. I knew why.

“Together, you’re dangerous,” Cashiel said. “Separate, you’re controlled.”

I exhaled through my teeth. “So, the Brotherhood gets what they want and the Knights get her.”

Her. A weapon.

Me. The trigger they planned for.

He nodded. Once.

“What they did to her,” Cashiel said softly, “was not strategy. It was desecration.”

His gaze lingered on her. “And it left scars no blade can reach. She needs you now. More than ever. You’re the only one who can pull her back to herself.”

My mouth turned dry.

His gaze moved from her back to me. Glinting with something hard.

Cashiel’s wings rustled softly. “I can do nothing more for her. But you—” He met my gaze. “You can do everything. Be the man she chose. Not the warrior standing guard.”

Then he was gone.

I’d buried that man centuries ago. When the world had taken everything from me.

And the world was trying to do that again.

But I could be that man again.

For her.

Chapter 23 | Anna

Pain pounded through my head the moment I woke. Like there was a pickaxe buried in my skull. My eyes wouldn’t open. I was too busy trying to contain the massive pain. I winced. Once. A whimper. A sound I didn’t recognize.

I was still on the floor. Blanket over my legs. The room dark except for the faint glow from the kitchen. He hadn’t moved me.

Then a presence next to me. Warm. Solid.

I flung out a hand, reaching. Searching.

He caught my hand in his. Held it. His fingers wrapping around mine. Holding.

I opened my eyes. Looked up at him. He waited. His gaze fixed on my face. Those green-gold eyes held something I didn’t recognize. A wariness I hadn’t seen before.